


Primer X or Finch and the Blue Pill

by Microdigitalwaker



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 07:04:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17055380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Microdigitalwaker/pseuds/Microdigitalwaker





	Primer X or Finch and the Blue Pill

   
Chapter 1 'Primer X'

"Please go away," begs Finch, his voice and every movement the antithesis of his normally placid self.

"Harold?" asks Reese, not the least dissuaded, for Finch is everything and a Finch in trouble demands action. He moves closer, slowly, and when Shaw and Bear waltz into the room, it is Reese who demands  they leave.

"Don't get your panties in a twist," Shaw huffs but she clicks her tongue and Bear follows at her heels, leaving the two men to themselves.

Reese, easing himself closer with a grace that belies his size 13 shoe. "Harold?"

"Leave me, please. I wish to be alone in my misery"

Reese leans forward, his face filled with tender concern. " I'll never leave you, Harold."

Finch sits back in his chair, his face turning the color of beets as his mouth opens and snaps shut several times. Reese takes a chance, covering Finch's hand, holding it while they wait for the him to collect himself.

"This is highly embarrassing," Finch finally admits.

"As embarrassing as it was when you took on the challenge of changing my catheter and emptying my bedpans?"

Reese makes a point but Finch, who remains glued to the computer table, his belly pressing against the edge, can't not argue.

"That, that wasn't your fault," he protests.

"But whatever is going on now is, Harold?"

"Yes," is the terse reply. Finch's breath quickens to the verge of hyperventilating until Reese starts counting breaths, echoing Finch's until things return to something closer to normal.

"Thanks," whispers Finch. "I suppose I'll have to reveal the source of my discomfort, but you must promise not to tease me about it."

Blinking his eyes, which sparkled with boyish innocence, Reese laughs.  "When have I ever teased you, Harold?"

This earns a huff and an angry stare so he hurries to apologizes sweetly.  "I promise not to tease."

With a roll of his eyes, Finch groans, pushing back from the table, exposing his lap.

His oddly bumpy lap, Reese noticed with interest.

"Root did it. She mailed me these," squeaks Finch, pulling a box from under a pile of folders. The cover was bright, the most notable feature the huge blue pill below the bold text - 'PRIMER X'.

"Oh, Harold," chuckles Reese. "You didn't?"

"Don't laugh!"

"I'm sorry. I'll stop."

Visibly miserable, Finch struggles to explain.

"I was curious. You see such things advertised  so often. Havenâ t you ever wondered?"

"Potency has never been a problem."

"Well, wait until you are in your fifties, not to mention a certain thing called neurological damage,"  snaps Finch, throwing the box at Reese's head . Missing.

"So, what now? How long has it been?"

"Three hours."

"But they say after four..."

Finch slumps in his chair., wincing.  "I am aware of that," he answers.  Now seemingly immune to further embarrassment, he elaborates.  "Believe me, I've tried to find a resolution to this, this difficulty. Several times, each unsuccessful."

Reese is confused.  "Do you mean you climaxed several times and it still hasn't gone down? Or?"

"Or.  I tried several times, unsuccessfully. To be absolutely blunt, I didn't come. The nerve damage in my hands can  manifest during moments of extreme stress. This is a moment of extreme stress. I simply wasn't able to manage."

Reese picks Finch's hand, reverently tracing a fingertip along his palm. "I can help."

"John, I can't impose on you like that!"

Grinning, Reese leaned forward, brushing his lips along the curve of Finch's ear. "Who says it's an imposition?"

  
  
Chapter 2 'Relief'

It takes a minute to situate themselves; Finch doesn't t want to move, protesting that it was all too painful now. Lifting his rump from his habitual perch with a low groan, he hangs there while Reese, on his knees, gingerly lowers his trousers and boxers in one swift tug.

"Ouch,"  murmurs Reese, trying to mask his sense of alarm at the sight of Finch's dark, swollen dick standing with rigid attention, a penile salute between the two fine linen shirt tails that drape it.  Wincing, Reese observes the rough abrasions marring the shaft. Finch had tried all right.

"Owwww,"  whimpers Finch. "My grip, I couldn't  control the pressure, too rough."

Reese blows across the painful-looking manhood, warm and soft, ruffling short, decorative strands of silver and brown.

"I'll be careful," he promises, taking the bottle of lubricant Finch hands him. 

He unbuttons the bottom two buttons of Finchâ s shirt, brushing the fabric aside as he carefully began scratching the wiry hairs and silky skin of his boss's s slightly rounded belly. The room is quiet except for the whisper of their respiration, which grows heavier as Reese cupped the sides of tiny pot, brushing his face against the softness.

" _Not_ my penis,"  Finch gasps with growing urgency.

Reese snorts.  "I know."

Using both hands flat  just below Finch's sternum began stroking downw towards the angry red of his partner's groin. Finch leaned back, his knees spreading and his hips canted; his cock was dripping with eagerness. Half the bottle squirted into his palm, Reese presses his hands together to warm the slick before anointing Finch's rectum.

"John?"  Finch exclaims, voice quavering.

"You really are well proportioned," John admires, gliding a slick knuckle  fingertips over Finch's opening. until he decides to press inside with one fingertip.  "Your skin is way too delicate, he adds soothingly as his entire finger, then a second slip inside.  "We'll just do this the old fashioned way,," he adds, curling them upward, grinning as Finch's hips thrust against him.  "That's the spot."

""It...it...most certainly is," pants Finch, squeezing and panting and asking for more, more fingers, more pressure, faster!  It doesn't take more than a few minutes of Reese's ministrations to achieve the result they both desire.

"Thank you, John."

The crisis is over.

 


End file.
